


Whispers in the Dark

by galaxystiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Baggage, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxystiel/pseuds/galaxystiel
Summary: If they talk about things here, in Dean's safe space with the lights turned out, it's not real.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 85
Collections: Writers of Destiel Weekly Words





	Whispers in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Writers of Destiel server's Weekly Words event. The prompt was 'whispers in the dark'.

It isn’t real.

That’s what kept Dean honest, with himself and to Castiel. If he can’t tell himself that it isn’t real, then he can’t do this. He can’t open himself up to hurt, to judgement, to —

Love.

Cas isn’t the kind to judge him, Dean knows that. Castiel would never hurt him, not willingly. He has a stupidly huge heart hidden somewhere under that equally stupid trenchcoat.

And talking of that stupid trenchcoat…

“I liked the old one better,” Dean whispers. In the silence of his bedroom, he knows Castiel can hear every word. They don’t even have the TV running anymore. In here, in the safety of Dean’s space, they’ve given up pretending to watch it.

“The old what?”

“Coat. Your coat. The one you used to wear at the start. The one I… the one I saved when you died.”

Silence. If this was anyone else, Dean might have been nervous. But not Cas. He could practically hear the gears turning, as Castiel thought through Dean’s random comment.

“Me too,” he replies eventually. “I’ve never been able to find one the same. And maybe that’s a good thing. Sometimes it’s impossible to go back, no matter how much you want to.”

And now they aren’t talking about the coat anymore.

Dean swallows. “Yeah,” he grinds out a gruff reply. “I guess so.”

He turns his head away, even though he knows it’s pointless. There’s no light in his room, and the absence of a window means the room is pitch black. He can’t see Castiel looking at him, and Castiel doesn’t need light to be able to see him. To read his every thought, written all over his face.

“I thought we were going to talk about this, Dean. I followed all the rules. We’re in your space, I turned all the lights off, Sam and Jack aren’t even in the bunker. Yet you’re avoiding the subject.”

Dean winces. “Don’t… don’t, Cas. Don’t make me feel bad about this.”

“I’m not,” Castiel’s voice softens, and Dean feels the ghost of a touch against his knee. “I understand that this is what helps you feel safe, not being able to see me.”

Dean blinks. “You think that’s why I… Cas, it’s not that. Although it does help,” he admits.

“Then why—?”

“Because it’s not real.”

The silence rings out again, and this time Dean can’t hear the sound of gears. What he hears is something far more potent and far more devastating.

He swears he can hear Castiel’s heart break.

“I see. Excuse me, I need to…” Castiel doesn’t even attempt to make an excuse. He just leaves.

Dean doesn’t call after him, tells himself it’s because Castiel deserves space, and not because he’s terrified Castiel won’t stay if he asks him to.

Instead he sits. Waits. He doesn’t turn the light on, or the TV, but blindly finds his headphones in the dark, letting the sounds of Zeppelin IV drown out the voice in his head that’s telling him he fucked up again.

He’s not sure how much time he passes like that. One hour. Four. In the darkness, there’s very little to determine the passage of time.

He senses Castiel’s return before he feels the foot of the bed dip, and he pauses the music, tugging the headphones free.

“I didn’t mean it,” he breathes immediately.

“Yes, you did.”

Dean shuffles to one side and pats the pillow. He doesn’t speak again until Castiel takes the hint and moves next to Dean.

“Yeah, you’re right, I did. But not about us. You and me, we’re real.” It’s the best declaration he could give, and he hopes it will be enough. “Everything else… if I tell you how I feel, what I’m scared of, what worries me. If I tell you those things, they’re real. But here, they’re just… whispers in the dark, man. They’re stories and make believe. They’re not real.”

Castiel’s hand covers his, and Dean finds strength in the touch. “We’re real,” he repeats. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now turn the light on?”

Castiel does so, his hand slipping away as he rises to flip the switch. The light flickers, bright and blinding and Dean winces, shielding his gaze as his vision adjusts.

He makes sure Castiel can see him, that he’s sitting back in his place on the bed when Dean catches his gaze.

“I can’t do any of this without you, Cas.”

There’s no darkness to hide behind, and at the shine of hope he sees in Castiel’s eyes, he’s glad he found the courage to speak the words.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Castiel’s mouth tugs up in a fond smile, his tone reverent and loving.

Dean gives a brief nod and reaches for the remote. “Good. Now let’s watch TV. I think High Noon is on. That’s a classic.”

He hits the button and while he can’t bring himself to reach for Castiel’s hand, he does press their shoulders together.

It’s a start.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any thoughts, I'd love to hear them! Leave a comment below, or even a kudos.


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